


Greylock the Grand’s Finale

by Jathis



Series: The Steward and the Sorcerer [11]
Category: Sofia the First (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, Asexual Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27931417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/pseuds/Jathis
Summary: Cedric receives news about what happened to Rudistan’s shortest reigning king
Relationships: Baileywick/Cedric the Sorcerer
Series: The Steward and the Sorcerer [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091021
Kudos: 7





	Greylock the Grand’s Finale

_ Cedric, I need you. _

The sorcerer perked up as the charm between himself and King Roland went off, sending him a mental image of Roland in his office. It was an old charm that was always applied between king and royal sorcerer. It made sure that Cedric always knew when the king wanted him and where said monarch was.

He carefully set down the two vials he had been mixing together, frowning to himself. What could Roland need at this time of day? Normally Cedric was left alone until at least late afternoon. He took a moment to adjust and smooth over his robes before he was off, Rosemary fluttering over to land on his shoulder.

Baileywick and Roland were speaking softly to each other when Cedric entered the office. Baileywick stood up straight when he spotted the sorcerer, clearing his throat. Roland looked as if he wanted to stand up but stopped himself, looking down at something in his lap.

Cedric frowned but said nothing, bowing to Roland. “Your Majesty, what do you require?” Roland and Baileywick shared another look between each other and Cedric raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently for an answer.

“Cedric...this was delivered to the castle this morning,” Roland said. He revealed that he was holding a box in his lap, setting it down on his desk. He kept a hand on top of it, hiding the label of where it had come from.

Cedric could feel magic coming from the box but it was weak. “Sire?”

“You know that Merlin and the other sorcerers were able to stop the other members of the Order of the Wand,” Roland said. He stared down at the top of his desk, unable to look Cedric in the eyes. “Thus those who were the rightful rulers were given back their thrones.”

Why did that magic in the box feel familiar?

Cedric bowed again, clasping his hands together. “I am very aware and I am still very thankful to you for giving me a second chance, sire. I…” Cedric frowned when he saw the way Baileywick was looking away, staring at a blank point on the wall. “Why do you bring this up now, my king?”

“Some rulers handed down their sentences quickly. Most chose exile or imprisonment. Very few chose the fire. Others held trials for the ones involved. King Magnus held a trial.”

Why was Roland covering that box?

“It was more for show rather than a proper trial.”

Why was that magic coming from the box?

“I know how Magnus can be…”

Why did he  _ know  _ that magic?

“...and I wrote to him several times on behalf of Greylock but…”

Cedric stared at the box, his heart hammering in his ears. Nothing else mattered. Just that box.

“...sent this…sorry…”

Wordlessly Cedric stepped forward and he pulled the box out from under Roland’s hand. He ignored the seal of the kingdom of Rudistan, opening the box with more force than needed. He looked down at a monocle and a familiar brown wand that had been snapped in half. The magic leaking away had been coming from the wand.

A hand touching his arm made him flinch and sharply turn. He wanted to scream. He wanted to curse. He wanted to deny everything and insist they were wrong.

“Cedric,” Baileywick whispered, keeping his hand on the sorcerer’s arm. He waited as Cedric’s facial expression changed, the news finally sinking in. He held him close as Cedric fell forward, sobbing into his shoulder. He stroked Cedric’s hair in comfort, cooing softly to him.

“I’m so sorry,” Roland softly said. “I tried everything short of openly threatening him to find another way. This… was his response to my latest letter on the matter.”

Gently Baileywick pushed Cedric back enough so he could look in his face. He wiped away his tears with both of his thumbs, cradling his face between his palms. Cedric clung to his wrists with trembling hands, struggling to breathe and control his tears.

“I spoke with a stonemason. There will be a marker for him in the main garden or wherever you think it should be placed,” Roland offered.

Cedric took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he willed himself to calm down. “I think...Greylock would like that, your Majesty,” he whispered. He glanced down at the box again and closed its lid before picking it up. “I think...I think I would like some rest,” he said.

Baileywick helped Cedric back to the bedroom they shared. He kept one hand on his arm and another on the small of Cedric’s back to keep him steady. “I’m so sorry, honey. The king really did try everything he could. King Magnus is just...he just refused to listen to anything he had to say.” He helped him sit on their bed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll bring you some tea,” he offered.

“Please put something alcoholic in it.”

“We shall see,” he sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

Cedric sat on the bed with the box in his lap. Rosemary plucked at his hair, trying to comfort him with a preen. He reached up, stroking one of her talons with a finger. “Thank you, Rosie.” The magpie fluttered down to sit on the bed beside him, looking at the box in his lap.

“They break the wand to destroy any residual magic that could have been transferred from sorcerer to wand. That is why you can feel magic slipping out of it,” he murmured, opening the box to look inside once more. “Greylock always liked polished wood for his wands because it matched his taste in clothes. ‘Honestly, Kendrick! I’m an autumn. It’s called fashion. Perhaps you could look it up in one of your books.’”

He snorted, shaking his head at the memory. “I think I can count on one hand how many times he actually called me Cedric,” he said. “We...well we weren’t  _ friends  _ in the usual sense of the word I suppose. He was always playing his tricks and pranks on me. I still remember when he waited until I had climbed onto one of the ladders of the library in Hexley Hall and he instantly shouted the title of a book that was at the very top of the highest bookshelf. I thought I was going to die of fright before I even reached the top. They should do something about the speed of how those things move!”

Rosemary gently tapped the monocle with her beak, tilting her head at the object.

“There was an accident a few years into our study. An accident that was  _ not  _ caused by me if you can believe that,” Cedric snorted. “Someone was mixing the wrong ingredients together and Greylock was struck in his eye when it started to send sparks everywhere. He had horrible depth perception in that eye from then on. That was what this was for,” Cedric said, picking up the monocle to show her. 

“He even taught himself to do tricks with it. Juggling and tossing it in the air and catching it on his eye. I always thought he was cheating and using some kind of enchantment but…” Cedric turned the monocle over as he looked at it with narrowed eyes. “I have to admit that there has been no charm or enchantment placed on it. He actually taught himself those tricks.”

Sorcerer and familiar looked up as the door opened. Baileywick stepped in holding a tray with a pot of tea, two cups, and one thimble. “For Rosemary,” he explained when he saw the confused look on Cedric’s face. He set the tray down on the bedside table, pouring the drink before handing one cup to Cedric. He set the thimble aside for Rosemary.

Cedric’s eyebrows rose when he drank from the cup. He looked at Baileywick in surprise. “Hot whiskey?” he asked.

“It’s more refined when you call it hot toddy,” the steward said as he sat down beside him. “Doctors sometimes prescribe it for colds. It’s technically medicinal.”

Cedric snorted, shaking his head as he took another drink. “This tastes like the expensive kind too,” he murmured.

“From the king’s personal collection,” Baileywick agreed. He refilled Cedric’s cup. “How are you feeling?”

“...better than before,” he confessed. He looked over at his magpie and smiled a little at the way she was carefully sipping from her thimble. “She cannot talk back but Rosemary is a wonderful listener,” he said.

“I’m glad of that,” he said with a smile.

They sat in silence after that, drinking the hot spiced whiskey Baileywick had put together. Cedric could feel his body starting to relax, a redness coming to his cheeks as the whiskey took effect.

“His ashes,” he said.

Baileywick looked up from refilling a cup. “Ashes?” he asked.

“What do you think they did with his ashes?” Cedric asked. “The only way my kind are executed is with fire. That means there must be ashes.”

“I don’t know,” Baileywick confessed. “Perhaps they were sent to his family? Parents or siblings?”

“Perhaps,” Cedric agreed, doubting that very much as he took a drink from his cup. He was fairly certain that the ashes had been allowed to blow in the wind but it was a nice thought to think they were properly collected.

“The king…”

“I know. He did everything he could. I believe him when he says that. He has no reason to lie to me about this. Greylock is already dead after all.”

Baileywick placed a comforting hand on his knee. “Dear…”

“Imagine what would have happened if Roland had sentenced  _ me _ to fire,” Cedric murmured, emptying the pot into his cup. “There’s so many different ways to do it. Put in an iron bull, bound to a stake, forced into a massive oven, or…”

“Cedric,” Baileywick said, running a hand through his hair.

He smiled sadly, finishing his cup before setting it down. “I would prefer the stake myself. I don’t much care for small spaces and I would rather not be killed in one either. I wonder if there would be a crowd to watch. How funny would that be? My death would draw the biggest crowd in my entire career as a sorcerer!”

Baileywick gently turned Cedric’s head to look at him, pressing their foreheads together. “If such a thing happened then I would be bound with you,” he said.

He laughed, shaking his head. “My Baileywick…”

“Yours,” he agreed.

Silent tears fell down his cheeks. He hugged onto the other and wept against his neck, staying there for what felt like hours.

***

The stone marker was beautifully made out of a single piece of polished stone. It was decided that the marker would be placed under one of the trees, surrounded by flowers.

Cedric placed the pieces of Greylock’s wand beside it. He looked up at Baileywick and the others and he could only offer a sad smile. He had not realized so many people would come with him to say goodbye. “He would be upset at so many sad faces,” he said. He drew his wand from his sleeve and he waved it in the air, murmuring under his breath. Brightly colored animal balloons burst into appearance, floating in the air above their heads.

“That was always his favorite trick,” Cedric said as Roland walked up to him. “Thank you, sire. You didn’t have to do any of this. You only met the man once and…”

“He was your friend, Cedric. How could I not do something?” Roland countered. He smiled and took Cedric’s hand into his own. “Take as much time as you need. No one will force you back to work until you’re ready.”

Cedric bowed his head in thanks, looking up as Baileywick approached and placed a hand on the small of his back. “Baileywick…”

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Better,” he said. They gently touched their foreheads together before following after the others back to the castle. “I feel much better.”


End file.
